The Life and Lies of Fleur Delacour
by Pretty Hurts
Summary: Fleur starts her first year a Beauxbatons –a world away from Hogwarts, this part-Veela heads to the South of France to begin her magical journey that will impact her life forever.
1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

In this story Fleur would be speaking French, but of course I'm not going to actually be writing her speech in French, so I hope you read this before starting the story as you may get confused. Fleur and everyone who is French in this story will have their words written in perfect english when speaking French, but when they are speaking English then they will talk with a French accent, i.e.: "_We 'ave all be 'oping to be chosen for weeks and weeks! Ze honour for our schools! A thousand Galleons prize money - zis is a chance many would die for!"_ Despite this, there will still be some French in the text for names and such – just use Google Translator if you can't read it.

Also, I am being entirely creative with Beauxbatons, so the information may not match up with the book, but this is just fanfiction, so whatever. Not sure how far I will take this story yet, it's my first and therefore I'm using it as a practise.

**Summary:** Fleur starts her first year a Beauxbatons –a world away from Hogwarts, this part-Veela heads to the South of France to begin her magical journey that will impact her life forever.

**Disclaimer:** I am not JK Rowling, and unfortunately I do not own the Harry Potter franchise, so I therefore own nothing in this story, except perhaps the plot. And the things I make up.

**The Life and Lies of Fleur Delacour**

**Chapter One: The Beginning**

"Fleur!" my mama snapped, slapping my hand away from my mouth. "What did I tell you about chewing your fingernails?"

"I am a Delacour, I mustn't do anything to make myself less beautiful," I recited in a flat tone, staring out the rain-splattered window of the train carriage nervously.

My mama nodded in approval, "That's right. I've told you before about that nasty habit." She pulled out her wand and tapped the offending nail with a flourish, transforming it back to its original perfection.

"I'm nervous, mama," I admitted, biting my lower lip absentmindedly but releasing it before my mama noticed. "I won't know anyone there – Penelope's parents are sending her to Hogwarts."

"The Clearwaters? Yes, I heard they were moving to England," was my mama's only reply, accompanied with a slight sniff. There was a short pause, and she sighed when she saw my eyes had started to fill up with tears. "None of that silliness now Fleur, what would your papa think? Don't worry about Beauxbatons, you'll make plenty of friends," she said reassuringly, wrapping an arm around my shoulder and giving me a one-armed hug. I rested my head on her shoulder for a few seconds until a shrill whistle blew, ruining the moment. The whistle signalled that it was our stop, so when the train slowed to a halt we grabbed our belongings and exited the train, where we were greeted by a young porter who was carrying my trunk.

"Here you go sweetheart," the boy winked at me, placing a roomy cage on top of my luggage, which contained my magical familiar; Émeraude, my cat. Named so because of his emerald green eyes that glittered brilliantly against his midnight black fur. He meowed softly at me, trying in vain to stick a paw through the cage door, and the porter moved on after bidding us good day.

"Welcome to Marseilles Station," a cool women's voice sounded from the loudspeakers that were mounted on a few walls. Her pleasant voice continued to echo around the building, mentioning a few offers on train tickets to Nice and Paris, but I tuned the voice out as I followed my mama closely through the jostling crowd so I didn't get lost. This was my first time travelling to Beauxbatons, and therefore had no idea how I was going to get there, so it came to no surprise that I was nervous.

"Keep up darling," my mama called over the crowd, reaching for my hand so I didn't get caught up in the throng of people. We were walking in the opposite direction to the crowd, but the farther we went, the more disperse the crowd became, until we were completely alone, heading towards an unused unisex toilet in a run-down part of the building. Ignoring the 'Out of Order' sign on the door, my mama pushed open the door to reveal a shabby bathroom with cracked mirrors and stained walls.

"Um, mama?" I murmured, studying my surroundings with distaste. "There were much nicer toilets back at the station."

"Child, this isn't used as a toilet," my mama chuckled, studying the only intact mirror in the room. "Come closer," she beckoned me, and pointed to a peeling gold star sticker in the corner of the glass. "Look carefully at it now, Fleur. Don't look away, or you'll get left behind." Utterly bewildered by her words, I did as she asked; tearing my eyes away from the flaking walls inscribed with unintelligible messages and peered at the faded sticker. I felt a hand grip my shoulder tightly, and the star grew brighter and brighter until it hurt to look at it; I closed my eyes from the glare and felt my head spin. "Fleur," my mama's voice called. "You can get up now." Opening my eyes I squinted into the harsh light, but when I averted my eyes from the glare I realised it was the sun I was staring up at. Finding myself lying down on damp grass, I picked myself up and dusted myself off, watched by my mama who was holding my belongings. Taking in my surroundings, I saw that we were standing on a lush green meadow next to a country lane; along with hundreds of students dressed in muggle clothing, milling around eight small carriages, each pulled by two horses. The carriages had a regal feel to them; powder-blue with silver lining, the school crest adorned on both doors either side; two crossed golden wands, each emitting three stars. But the most interesting thing about them wasn't the carriages themselves or the students clambering into them, but the horses pulling them – winged horses with thick, glistening coats that were the colour of burnished gold, highlighted by their flaming red eyes.

"Name?" a tall, willowy girl asked me after spotting me and my mama's arrival, studying a clipboard which she was holding loftily.

"Fleur Isabelle Delacour," I replied lightly, still gazing at the horses in awe, but remembering to hold my chin up like my papa had taught me.

"Yes," the girl nodded, ticking something on her clipboard with satisfaction. "The first-year carriage is over there," she pointed to the first carriage, where a group of small girls and boys were huddled, saying goodbye to their parents and boarding the small carriage. The girl walked off to another family, and I turned to my mama for guidance. My mama took my hand and led me over to the carriage, which up close looked quite too small to fit more than a couple of students and their luggage.

"Mama, it's much too small, however will I fit in there with everyone else?" I wondered, noting the size of the carriage.

"It's enlarged on the inside," she replied, giving me a soft kiss on both cheeks. "I can't come with you any further, you must be a brave girl my dear. I'll send your love to Papa and Gabrielle." I nodded, not trusting myself to say anything, and accepted a brief hug before my mama walked over the bridge where there were available portkeys, for the area was covered in anti-disapparation spells. Just as I was wondering how I was going to get my massive trunk up the golden steps, a boy dressed in blue cut-off jeans and a Weird Sisters t-shirt approached me with a cheeky smile.

"Want some help with that?" he offered, indicating to my case. "A lady such as yourself shouldn't have to carry her own case." I smiled to show that I accepted his offer, and walked gracefully up the steps, with him following me with my case. Mama was right – the carriage was enlarged on the inside, fitted with two dozen rows of benches that had overhead compartments. I found a free row and the boy put my trunk on the rack above me. "Luc Garcia, at your service. I'm a second year Ventair; the best house," he introduced himself, lifting my hand to his lips.

"Fleur Delacour," I replied smoothly, noticing that he was very attractive, but thought nothing of his gentlemanly manner for he wasn't the first boy to show an interest in me. There was a shout from outside, and with another grin he exited the carriage, presumably to get the second-year one. Being quarter-Veela, it is never surprising when boys show an interest in me, as I happen to be quite used to it. What bugged me so much was that guys only seemed to be interested in my looks, and not the person I was underneath. I sat down at the end of my row beside the window, and let Émeraude out of his cage.

"How do you know Luc?" a girl said to me who was sitting in the row in front of me, turning around to look at me properly. She was beautiful – long, curled brown hair, big green eyes adored with thick, curly lashes and dusky pink bee-stung lips.

"I don't," I replied bemusedly, noticing all the looks I was receiving from the other members of the carriage, ranging from envious to admiring. "I just met him now, when he offered to carry my trunk for me; I don't even know who he is." I glanced at the window and was shocked to see greenery rushing past – I hadn't noticed that we had started moving. If you averted you eyes from the windows you would assume that you weren't moving – it was slightly creepy in a way.

"Really?" the brunette asked unbelievingly. "Well, you'd be the first then. My older sister is in the third-year, and apparently loads of girls have the hots for him. I'm not surprised though, he's absolutely gorgeous. I'm Emilie, by the way. Emilie Broussard."

"Fleur Delacour," I repeated for the third time that hour, smiling as she leaned over to scratch Émeraude behind the ears. "His name is Émeraude, and he doesn't like many people – but he's seems to have taken a shine to you," I laughed as he purred contentedly and rubbed his head against her hand.

"He's adorable," she said gazing down at him. "What house do you want to be in? I'd like to be in Soldoué like my sister, but I'm not very artistic or imaginative." I shrugged; I had been worrying about which house I wanted to be in ever since I had heard about Beauxbatons, but I still wasn't sure what one I wanted to be in. There were four houses: Soldoué, the Earth house, for those who were creative and good with their hands; Feuxamour, the Fire house, for the loving and faithful, willing to fight for what they believe in; Ventair, the Air house, for the ambitious and determined; and Mereau, the Water house, for the wise and cunning.

"Not sure yet, I guess I'd be happy to be in any house that wanted me," I murmured, more to myself than Emilie.


	2. Beauxbatons

**Chapter Two: Beauxbatons**

Craning my neck to get a good view out of the window, I watched as our carriage, which was at the front of the procession, approach a pair of pearly white gates that swung open magically. Emilie put away the leftover chocolate frogs she had been sharing with me, and after much petting and treats, I managed to persuade Émeraude to get back in his cage. Because the carriages glided so smoothly along the path, I had to look out the window to check whether we had stopped yet. The carriage door opened, and a painfully thin woman entered, followed by a gust of warm air.

"First-years, you will leave your belonging on the carriage and follow me into the Palace of Beauxbatons, where you will be sorted," she announced without bothering to look at any of the students she was addressing. "After that you will be lead to your dorms by your house prefects to change into your robes before dinner." She gave us what I presumed was supposed to be a smile, but looked more like a grimace before walking out the door and leaving the occupants of the carriage to scramble after her. We almost had to run to keep up with her large strides, and as we reached the huge gold doors, which lead us into the castle, Emilie caught up with me, panting slightly.

"Someone tripped over my bag and sent things flying everywhere. Had to sprint to catch up with the group – is she late or something?" Emilie moaned; she was a head shorter than me, and her legs were quite tiny so she had to jog to keep up. We walked through the huge entrance hall, barely having enough time to take in the breathtaking view before we were whisked down three identical corridors that came in quick succession, and came to a halt outside a polished ebony door. We had all been jogging or walking incredibly fast, so when we suddenly stopped a few people walked into each other and started bickering loudly.

"Quiet," the teacher called impatiently, and the voices died away. "I am Mrs Bourque, teacher of the fine art that is Divination. In a couple of minutes you will enter past this door and be sorted into one of the four houses: Feuxamour, Mereau, Soldoué and Ventair." She opened the door a few inches and squeezed through, which wasn't hard with her stick-like frame, and snapped it shut before anyone could what was inside. As soon as she disappeared, there was an outbreak of whispering and murmuring about what was going to happen next.

"Any idea how we get sorted?" Emilie asked me, chewing her bottom lip nervously. "My parents said they couldn't tell me, not matter how hard I pleaded."

"Same here – mine wouldn't let on either. Wonder if we'll need our wands," I thought aloud, taking mine out of my shoulder bag. Emilie opened her mouth to reply, but was interrupted by a loud, sneering voice.

"This is a waste of time," a short, curvy girl with a blonde pixie cut and dark blue eyes scoffed, rattling the doorknob of the ebony door which was, of course, locked. The doorknob was in the shape of a lion, and when she touched it, it came alive and bit her middle finger firmly. "Ow! It's only gone and bitten my hand off, the damn thing. Full of crap, just like that stupid teacher, Mrs bloody Bourque." Everyone had gone quiet to listen to the loud exclamations from this rude girl, who clearly loved the attention. "Papa told me that he went to school with her, hardly had two brain cells to stitch together, the loony. Of course, what can you expect from a Mudblood?"

"Shut up!" a boy standing behind her suddenly yelled, going pink in the face. The girl whirled around to face him, a leering grin forming on her face. A chubby girl around my height grabbed the boy's bag and handed it to the first girl, who found the label.

"Nicolas Bourque, huh? I didn't know she had a son. How proud you must be, having her for a mama!" She and the chubby girl started laughing coldly, encouraging other students who obviously either despised Muggle-borns, or didn't want to get on the wrong side of the bullies, to laugh along with them. The girl tossed the bag aside, losing interest and went back to staring at the door. "This is pointless – I know all about the sorting, so there's no need for _me_ to be waiting."

"Of course you do," Emilie said sarcastically. She meant to say it in an undertone to me, but since the girl wasn't talking and everyone else was silent, it ended up being quite loud. And everyone heard it.

"Are you challenging me?" the girl said, walking up to Emilie menacingly. "Do you think you know more than I do?"

"I never said that – but you seem to be under the impression that you are better than everyone else here," Emilie retaliated, stepping up to the girl; they were the same height, so neither could tower over the other. "If you're so _superior_, then why don't you offer to be sorted first, er…?"

"Chantal Chevalier," the girl spat. "A name you'd do well to remember. Don't bother me with yours; I don't think I care enough to know." Emilie looked as if she might hit her, but luckily the door opened at that moment and as people noticed surged forward eagerly, no one noticed me grab Emilie and drag her away from Chantal.

"I hope shrivels up and dies, that dirty little –" she muttered, cursing her under her breath. I rolled my eyes and paid attention to what Mrs Bourque was saying, who had emerged from behind the door once more.

"…wait until your name has been called until you enter the room, where you will be sorted. Be warned, if your name wasn't called and you try to enter the room, the doorknob won't be afraid to bite you," she said, the beginning of her sentence having been drowned out by the amount of whispering amongst the students. I was grinned to myself when I saw Chantal eye the doorknob with distaste, and cradle her finger protectively. We were made to line up against the wall in single file, which only made me more nervous of what was behind the door.

"André, Roselle," Mrs Bourque called the first student forward, a tiny girl with curly hair tied in a messy bun.

"Bellenger, Clément." A pale, gangly boy with long, ginger hair and a face full of freckles hurried to the door, looking close to tears as he wrenched open the door.

"Bourque, Nicolas." Face now devout of redness, the good-looking boy brushed his short, mousy hair out of his sparkling green eyes as he walked briskly up to the door, accompanied by an encouraging smile from him mama.

"Emilie Broussard." Emilie looked at me nervously, and I gave her the thumbs up as she opened the door and hastily slipped inside.

"Cartier, Marc." I assumed the boy had been at the back of the queue, as it took him a while to reach the door; huffing and puffing as he pounded his chubby feet against the floor.

"Fatty," I heard Chantal whisper behind me, which sounded quite ironic to me considering how fat she and her friends were.

"Chevalier, Chantal." She smirked as she swaggered up to the door and pushed it open with a hard shove; I wondered if I was the only one who saw her hands shaking. Out of all the students that had gone past the door into the unseen room, not a trace of them had been seen afterward; which didn't help the unsettling feeling in my stomach.

"Delacour, Fleur." I clenched my teeth together, and mustered all my will to keep my body from shaking like it so badly wanted to as I crossed over to the tall, ebony door. I eased the door open and walked into the room beyond uneasily.


End file.
